Sing me a Story
by Graymist the Great
Summary: No, I do not understand you. But as much as you think you know me, you don't. My mind is a web of thought, yours is a rock. But we can do it, we can still learn from each other. Just sing me that song for my ears that do not hear. Sing me a song of the heart.
1. Chapter 1

Every scrap of what I see enfolds me.

This new web of though,

it pulls me in closer.

The colors flash out at me

quiet and lovely

each one of a thousand

yet each on their own.

That is me.

I am on my own.

The ears I was blessed with cursed me.

The last thing I heard was her,

the one I called mother.

She said I would never hear again.

The tides rolled in,

the once gentle buzz completely engulfing me

until I surrendered.

You would never guess how beautiful

a world of silence is.

The gentle breeze can brush my whiskers

I feel it

but I do not hear what storm it brings.

The world is all right here

yet I am alone.

No one can tell me what to do.

The feather of the bird drops to the ground,

fluttering back into the wind.

Sometimes I wish I would just take me

into a better world

even as I lay in paradise.

I scoff at the thought

that once I was a humble subject

to the world that still holds me.

Before I was their tool

catching the food,

cleaning the nests.

But now I am free.

Even the strongest tree cannot hold me down.

They once called me a name

one I wished would never leave me.

But as one knows,

all good things must come to an end.

Featherpaw was no more for me.

The other apprentices were wasted

their minds soft to the world.

Now I am glad I left.

They can't bring me down here.

Now I am new.

**Not to disappoint my fans at all, I decided to make a mini-story. But, as you notice from this semi-prologue, this is not a normal story. To relax my dark, stressed mind, I put this in another format. Yes, every chapter will have this choppy, poetic phrasing, but an an author I can experiment. A story will develop, and your mind will be blown. So, don't be a silent reader! Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

I see her

Featherpaw

the lost apprentice.

Her eyes are a perfect green,

fur a golden hue.

However this illness came upon her is a mystery,

even to those she knew dear.

I shift my paws under my pelt

the flecks of moss scattering from under me.

Silver rays of moonlight float down

flowing onto the den floor.

Throw the fine twines of brambles

the stars shine upon me,

perfect in my mind.

Those cats of old must be looking down on me now

with pride in their eyes.

Am I not the most wonderful apprentice?

I mean,

the warriors have all learned of the tales

of each giant piece of prey

that I brought back.

And in battle

I am only but the fiercest.

StarClan gave me no powers,

yet still I try hard to please the only ones I know.

The Clan is my life.

It is perfect,

beautiful,

and a goal set before me

one I can always go further than.

The warriors of old cannot face me.

One day I will not just be Gustpaw.

I will be Guststrike,

ruler of them.

Champion of warriors.

Soon the pinks of dawn

drift through the shattered rays

of the passing moon.

The little brambles glimmer

The frost appearing on their tired faces.

Gently I pry a paw

Between two of the stems.

A drizzle of water

Burning cold to my skin

Fall from above.

My mentor Flamestrike's voice

pierces through the delicate thoughts.

Her command is simple

the words make sense.

Of course I will go

I will complete the tasks.

I will live another day.


	3. Chapter 3

There he is

that mouse-brain.

At first I believed

back when we were innocent and carefree

that he was intelligent.

Now I know the truth.

He has no more intelligence than a stone

one that rests upon the hill.

He sees but cannot understand,

observes by learns nothing.

I am glad I am not a simple-minded fool.

Cats meander from one side of the clearing to another,

their mews silent to my ears

even as I see mouths move.

They talk about the most pointless things.

When I could hear

I knew what they said.

They called to each other,

discussing prey like it was the meaning of life.

To them,

life was a matter of who had what blade of grass.

I am glad I cannot hear.

The noises of this life are meaningless.

Now I have the power

to see beyond

and focus on finding the important things.

That apprentice there,

with the perfectly placed gold fur

and soft white paws,

he thinks because of his beauty he is amazing.

It is a lie.

Beauty goes to one's head and destories their life.

One day they actually are right.

The next they are dead.

The meaning of life is a mystery

but at least I am a step closer to the world.

What do they see in these Clans?

They are wasting their lives.

While we could claim the lands

or stroll over the world's divides.

Instead we rest as sitting prey

Not caring what the shadows hide.

I will soar upon the waves

and stir the sitting leaves.

Even without ears I will here

without deep sight they will see.


End file.
